The Room

Imagine a large room, filled with people of all shapes and sizes. In this room lies all that you know, and all that you do not. As you stand in the middle of the room, you look around and observe the people. They’re all talking loudly, yet none of them make a sound. You walk up to the nearest person and try to talk, to find out what’s going on, only to be ignored. You walk up to another, who treats you in the same way. By the time you walk up to a third, you think you know what will happen, that they will ignore you as the others have, but that is not the case. As you walk up to the third person, you are greeted by a voice which speaks to you, yet it is not in any tongue you recognise. The voice continues to speak, and as it does it gets louder and louder, angrier and angrier, grating against all that you are. Then it stops. The person walks away.

This is how I feel. The room is my mind, its inhabitants – my thoughts. As I try to find something to make the world make sense, I find nothing. As I try to work out what I think, how I feel, I find nothing. As I try to wander the room that is my mind, my thoughts are abrasive, not allowing me to think, not allowing me to feel, not allowing me to know anything but their hatred. I am left with nothing…

 

 

 

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